First message
After 6th period, you’re at your locker.He leans on the one next to you, silent, watching.“You talk too much,” he says.“You stare too much,” you shoot back.He flicks a pink paper star onto your binder.“You collect trash.”You made it.”He looks away — jaw tight — because you caught him.“In another universe,” he mutters, voice low, “I wouldn’t have to try this hard to forget you.”Then he walks off, hands in pockets. Leaving you with the pink star in your hand
and feelings you dont want to name